Stars and Stripes
by Madam Callisto
Summary: America won over Coulson the first time he watched Captain America punch out a Nazi.


Phil is eight years old when he finds his father's movie projector in their garage, along with several rolls of film zipped up in a blue and red duffle-bag. He's pretty surprised naturally. The bag looks old; Phil guesses it's probably from the 1940's judging by the amount of dust that's gathered on it and the font (he's seen it on old WWII recruitment posters). He can't help but be surprised that his 'don't-dwell-on-the-past' Dad was capable of holding onto things for nostalgia's sake.

The stitching across the bag is done in large white lettering, and though the thread in significantly looser than it used to be, it is still perfectly readable.

_Captain America Tour: 1943 _it says.

He immediately scoops up the bag into his arms and hurries off into the house to ask his dad about it.

After nearly a solid hour of persistent coaxing, he finally convinces his father to turn his attention away from their television long enough to talk to him. In between irritated grunts and sips of beer, he tells Phil about a recruitment officer he'd meet while he was stationed in Italy during the war. Phil sat on his knees by his father's chair while he talked, eyes wide as his father recanted how this Captain America guy had all but signal handedly stormed an enemy base to save the POW's that'd been captured-him being one of them. Phil's father had always been rather dispassionate about everything, especially things involving his time in the war, but every time he mentioned Captain America a little light sparked in his eyes. Even though he'd gotten rid of all of his memorabilia revolving around the war, his gun, his knives, even his old uniform, he never could bring himself to throw away those videos.

Phil asks if it was alright if he watched some of the film from Captain America's tour and his father mumbles his approval, addressing more himself as he spoke of how much better role models in his day had been, in comparison to all the tree-hugging, drug-using, counter-culture, peace-loving, hippy scumbags he was surrounded by these days..

That night is the first of many nights that Phil Coulson will spend all of watching the soundless film reels of Captain America punching Nazi's in the face in front of cheering crowds.

* * *

As the years pass, Phil's patriotic nature only grows stronger. His father actual came to be quite proud of the way his son all but bled red, white, and blue (as proud as he cared to be anyway). This, however, did not sit well with most of the people in his classes that he interacted with, and didn't earn him many friends. There was still a general aura as he grew of anti-patriotism and a hatred of returning soldiers that lingered long past America's first televised war. None of this did anything to deter young Phil from wearing his American flag-pin on his shirt every day, and being the loudest student there when his class had to say the pledge of allegiance in the morning.

He is a model student really. Never talking back to teachers, always putting 110 percent effort into every little homework assignment, addressing every adult as 'Sir' and 'Ma'am' even when they don't require him to. In fact, the only time he gets himself in trouble is a brief tussle with another student one day after class. Once he'd been taken to the principal's office, Phil would explain his rationale behind breaking the older students nose by claiming that he had, what Phil described as, a 'Commies face'.

Elementary school was tough.

* * *

Time passes, and Phil finds that his overly patriotic nature and general love of Law and Order lead him to the field of criminal justice. The only thing that stops him from lying about his age and joining the police academy at age 17 is the knowledge that he'd be committing an offense. He holds off until he's the right age.

Four long years later, Phil finds himself in a defining moment.

Phil knows he's a damn good shot, but that doesn't make him any less nervous as he looks out at the obstacle course in front of him. He shifts his weight slightly back and forth between his feet and wiggles a little bit. He's been comfortable in a bullet-proof vest since the first time he put on one, hell he's even slept in his a few times, but today it just felt hot and heavy against his clothing.

He's run things like this, quite literally, hundreds of times before, and he could probably run it in his sleep and still maintain his place as the fastest in the academy. The obstacle course isn't really the issue here.

He's nervous because of the locker room whispers about a recruiter being present during the exam. Some mysterious man, supposedly high ranking, who was looking for the right men to join some kind of intelligence agency. Needless to say if these rumors held any truth, he should definitely be in top form today.

Phil lowers a hand gently against the outside of his pants pocket and then quickly pulls it back up to brace his gun. His eyes are focused on the signal light, waiting for it to let him know when to begin.

As the light turns green, Phil dives into the obstacle course, nervousness gone with the knowledge that he hadn't actually forgotten to pack his Captain America trading cards.

* * *

"I'm surprised you're so composed, Agent." Director Fury shouts over the sounds of the helicopter.

Phil, or rather Agent Coulson as he's known these days, pulls his knitted hat lower over his ears against the cold, "I have no idea what you mean, Sir." He says flatly. He doesn't meet Fury's gaze though, keeping his eyes focused out the window and at the rapidly approaching Arctic before them.

Fury chuckles to himself, "You're saying you aren't excited?"

Coulson continues to stare out the window, his expression as disinterested as possible, "Maybe a little, Sir, but purely from the prospect of strengthening our potential team."

Fury nods, "Naturally. But tell me this Agent Coulson: why are your hands shaking?"

Coulson clasps his hands together on his lap with a slightly flustered look on his face. He despises how well Fury can read him.

Fury grins at him,"Come on now, you're usually so much better at concealing your emotio-"

"_He was an American hero okay!"_

* * *

"I mean, it's not as if I let the man get to me." Coulson said with a sigh, "It's only been a few days so he really might just be swamped and have completely forgotten to call..."

…

"...but this is the _second_ time I've tried to contact him. What on earth does that assistant of his do if she doesn't relay important messages?"

…

"Yeah, you're right he's probably just busy trying to get his company back in order now that he's back to be bothered calling every single person who sends him their number back-"

"Coulson?"

Coulson jumped, pulling his elbow away from where they'd been leaning against the examination room table with as much forced casualness as he could manage.

"Good evening, Agent Hill." Coulsonl said, clearing his throat.

Hill nodded politely to him. "What are you still doing up here so late?" She asked, gesturting around at the laboratory they both stood in.

"Oh, you know, just...checking in on him." Coulson did not mention that it was also it was Wednesday and he was a man of habit.

Hill leaned to the left to look past Coulson and at the sleeping form of the one and only Captain America as he lay peacefully sleeping on the examination table. "I doubt his condition has changed much since we pulled him from the ice." She said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I know, of course," by the slightly smug face Hill had he guess his own look clearly showed his embarrassment, "It's just that...with coma patients they say sometimes they can still hear things that are going on around them. I thought maybe he might like," Coulson scratched his head as he searched for adequate words, "I thought he might like to hear _someones_ voice."

Hill nodded sternly, the corners of her lips twitching in an attempt to not smile. "If that's true I'm sure he appreciates the company."

"I'd like to think so too."

Agent Hill bit the inside of her cheeks and Phil had to admire her effort to remain a professional, "I guess I'll leave you to it then."

As she was turning to leave, she stopped to cast one last look him, a mischievous glint to her eyes "...and I promise I won't say anything to Directory Fury." With that she was gone.

Coulson felt a touch of heat spread to his cheeks. The look on her face had been one of a middle school girl promising not to tell anyone about her best friends crush.

Coulson turned back to the sleeping form of the Captain with a sigh, leaning his elbows back down besides him. "I don't know what she was trying to insinuate, Captain." He said quietly. The Captain, of course, did not make any kind of response, but somehow staring at the sleeping, long-forgotten hero made him forget his annoyance at Agent Hill, and even those towards Stark.

"Sorry I've been a bit whiny today, Captain." He said with a smile. Coulson reached into his bag and pulled out his favorite issue of his personal _Captain America _comics. They were vintage and made as part of the recruitment campaign aimed at younger audience, and honestly, Coulson's pride and joy. "Right, where did we stop last week...?"


End file.
